Devil in the Details
by Hashilavalamp
Summary: The life of a nation is long and arduous, but even over the course of such a long existence, the little moments inbetween can hold great significance. Prussia has learned to never underestimate them the hard way, and Germany shall do the same. [Historical Hetalia, sidestory to We reap what we sow. Can be read independently.]


**Welcome (back)! :D Finally came around to starting this lil story! As always, I'm delayed in posting my things on this website...  
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 **To talk a little about the story... Devil in the Details is a _sidestory_ to my fanfiction We reap what we sow; you will not have to have read that story before starting this, though it would help giving context for the chapters.  
The chapters themselves will detail moments in the lives of Ludwig and Gilbert (and occasionally other people that surround them) and will not be in chronological order - but no worries, I will always state which year it's taking place in so you don't get lost!  
As it was with We reap what we sow, if something is unclear, just send me a message and I will try to elaborate!  
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 **Now that this is out of the way, please enjoy! Feedback is much appreciated!  
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 **Late 1871**

No more chasing after the dog Luise in the gardens, no more clambering on trees even when Gilbert told him not to, no more running through the halls.

They hadn't thought this through properly, had they?

They knew this would involve a lot more blood and tears than originally planned when the first wounds started to appear, when Ludwig's skin began to resemble a map and Gilbert had to spend an entire afternoon stitching all the bloodied borders close, sutures stark black against the skin. They knew it'd get worse when Ludwig's arm fell off the first time and Ludwig actually _screamed_ in pain.

It had been a moment of vindicating victory for Prussia when the arrogant southern German states, after decades of defiance and resentment, finally bowed to him and announced that they would make way for the German Empire - right up until the moment Ludwig's legs began to bleed with the deep cuts in his flesh that resulted from this.  
The little boy had managed to grit his teeth through the meeting with Francis, and through the glorious official declaration of their empire the following day, but in reality he can stand or walk no longer than an hour without having to rely on a walking cane or having to be carried around like a toddler.

Even from several rooms away Gilbert could hear him cry and whine in the dead of night, when the stitches would come undone from his tossing and turning and blood began to soak through bandages and bed sheets, and as much as he told himself that this was necessary and right and that the boy would be stronger for this…  
Gilbert took pity on him eventually.  
Ludwig looked so glad and appreciative when his brother told him that he would be allowed to sleep in his bed, that he should wake him in case the wounds needed tending to again, so relieved that Gilbert felt twinges of guilt that he had not done this sooner, and to alleviate the awful feeling filling up his lungs he promised he would always help Ludwig find sleep.

And so he once more finds himself sitting at a sick child's bedside and reading fairytales to it to distract from the pain.  
Last time to ease the journey into death, this time to ease the way into life, and their faces are so similar that it hurts. In that moment it feels like all that has changed are the words he speaks, because of course the Brothers Grimm had listened to his suggestions and this time around all the stories are proper and child-appropriate. This time he'll do it better.

" _When the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards as they came back the elder was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness all their days._ So you see, Ludwig! _Aschenputtel_ endured and was rewarded in the end, while those envious of her were justly punished! A happy end!"

Ludwig gives only a tired smile and his eyes are half-shut, but his gaze is certainly attentive and alive with a pleased glint that tells Gilbert that his audience has enjoyed the fairytale as he was meant to. While he likes that he hasn't been reading stories to nobody, it's a bit frustrating by this point that the boy's still awake well past midnight and conscious enough to react.

With a sigh Gilbert closes the tome and puts it aside on the bedside table before he climbs into bed himself.  
He's had a long day of running around and assuring humans that his brother is fine, that they should proceed as planned on this issue and change their approach on another, shouting at soldiers left and right because they held their rifles as if they were sticks; he does want to keep his word to Ludwig but with the heavy fog of fatigue settling in his mind he isn't sure whether not maybe he'll have talked himself into sleep before Ludwig.

"Any more stories you'd like to hear?" he mumbles as he makes himself comfortable and hopes that he will receive no response.  
The bedroom is silent for a few minutes and Ludwig's body at the other side of the large bed is just as still, as if sleep had finally claimed the young soul after all, but then-

"Brother, have you ever died?"

Ludwig has such a sincere and grave manner of speaking despite his youth, and while Gilbert chooses to view it as amusing most of time, it's eerie in moments when the boy speaks of death. Because this child would know death, even with his limbs all in place and France defeated that fate is still always lurking just around the corner and neither of them can trick themselves into thinking it isn't.

"I haven't" Gilbert lies easily, because as far as he is concerned he hasn't. The hooves of a horse that broke his body were not his death, in his mind his life began right after with a knight's robes and you cannot die when you haven't lived before.  
Existed in some capacity, maybe. But not lived.

 _Beigeite beygeyte peckolle_

Ugh, look at what you did Ludwig, Gilbert thinks bitterly to himself. Made him remember words of a dead tongue he cut out of his own mouth. And with the words come images that he hasn't thought of in centuries because of how few and deeply buried they are, of lakes and swamps and of a little blond boy. He takes his hand and leads him through the hungry marshes, but then he lets go, and callously watches as the boy fights to the death against the water.

"I have never died, not even in battle" the Prussian repeats resolutely. "And you will be the same, Ludwig. You are my little brother and as such you will be great like me one day. Maybe not quite as great! but certainly close to it."

Ludwig does not respond, but Gilbert sees in the dim light of the lamp that he is smiling, blissfully unaware of the little lie that his brother fed him because it's best when he sees no cracks in Prussia's armor.

In the morning there's not a single drop of blood that seeped through the bandages.


End file.
